


Rough Winds

by Robottko



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Angst, Deathfic, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-15
Updated: 2013-09-15
Packaged: 2017-12-25 21:22:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/957734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Robottko/pseuds/Robottko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes the very thing that is keeping you alive is also killing you slowly...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rough Winds

Time doesn’t work the same in Night Vale as it does in the rest of the world. Most of the time it is slowing down, adding extra days onto the calendar. Sometimes it speeds up, and weeks go flying by. Cecil swears that one time he even felt time stand still, though he wasn’t positive because he had no idea where the invisible clock tower had teleported to that morning.

But this was different, this all-consuming dismay; it sucked all hope and joy out of the air. It was as if time didn’t exist at all, and nothing matter, all because his sweet Carlos was dying, and there was nothing he could do about it.

“How long?” Cecil asked, gripping the table behind him. He had gone to Carlos’s lab earlier that morning, planning to surprise him with flowers and breakfast. Carlos had looked up from his microscope when Cecil had walked in, and the sadness in his eyes was unbearable.

“About a week.” Carlos said from his position next to the microscope. “The longer you breathe it in, the quicker it kills you.”

“Then why isn’t it affecting me?” Cecil asked, his eyes flicking to the slide on the microscope that held a sample of Carlos’s blood. “Why aren’t I dying, too?”

“Because you’re from Night Vale.” Carlos explained sadly. “The air is poisonous to those who haven’t built up an immunity. If you move here when you’re under the age of twenty-one, your lungs can adapt, change, learn to filter the air. Mine…can’t.”

“But there must be something you can do!” Cecil practically begged. “I can’t…I can’t lose you, Carlos. Would a respirator be of use?”

“No, I’ve tried that. The toxins in Night Vale Oxygen manage to get through any mask.” Carlos looked as broken as Cecil felt. “Unless I leave Night Vale immediately, there’s nothing I can do.”

“Then leave!” Cecil said desperately.

“No.” Carlos snapped, glaring at Cecil. “I can’t leave.”

“But then you’ll live.” Cecil glared back.

Carlos shook his head sadly, lowering his gaze to the floor. “I can’t live in a world without you.”

It took only two strides for Cecil to cross the room and wrap his arms around Carlos. Carlos let out a shuddering breath, returning the hug in equal measure.

“I love you, Carlos.” Cecil said softly, burying his face in Carlos’s perfect hair.

“I love you, too.” Carlos replied. “Even when my heart stops beating, I shall love you.”

 

\--

 

The week was passing far too quickly, and Cecil wondered if time had sped up again. Carlos assured him that time was still slowing down, but that didn’t make him feel any better. Carlos was looking worse by the day, the poisonous air slowly draining him of life. Cecil suggested bringing him to the hospital, but Carlos refused.

“I want to be with you when I…when I go.” Carlos pleaded. “Please?”

“Of course.” Cecil answers. “Of course.”

 

\--

 

“You have nothing to fear except fear itself. Stop worrying so much and just close your eyes. Keep them closed. Nothing can hurt you when your eyes are closed, and that pain you’re feeling is imaginary. Welcome to Night Vale.”

It was midway through Cecil’s show that Carlos showed up, his face ashen. Cecil flicked on a prerecorded announcement, then stood up, his face filled with worry.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” Carlos said, flashing Cecil a weak smile. “Just, you know, wanted to stop by.”

“You can come any time.” Cecil replied, reaching out to stroke Carlos’s cheek, his caramel skin so soft against Cecil’s hand. Carlos leaned into the touch, his eyes closing.

“You have a radio show to put on.” Carlos said after a minute, opening his eyes to look at Cecil. “Go on, I’m just going to go to the men’s room and say goodb- to see Khoshekh.”

Cecil watched until Carlos vanished into the bathroom before turning back to his microphone, continuing his broadcast as if nothing was the matter. It was easier said than done, and the radio host felt as though everyone could tell how distracted he was. It came as a great relief when Carlos reappeared, small trickles of water running down the side of his face. Cecil was so relieved that he didn’t notice how unwell Carlos looked.

“Mmm, warm.” Cecil said, kissing a water droplet off of the dark skin. “Any particular reason for splashing water on your face?”

“I don’t…not feeling well.” Carlos said, taking a great gasp for air. Cecil froze, leaning back to look at the other man in terror.

Carlos was not doing well. His skin had gone ashy, and it looked as if the man were struggling for air. Cecil quickly helped him to a couch that was nearby his microphone, laying the man down carefully.

“Go…your radio show.” Carlos said, his voice wheezing ever so slightly. Cecil hesitated for only a moment before obliging, flipping on the microphone with practiced ease. He didn’t, however, stick to his notes.

“Dear Night Vale.” Cecil began softly, “I…I need help. Our city’s favorite scientist is really sick, and I don’t know what to do.” He looked over at Carlos, whose lungs were working overtime to compensate for the poison in the air.

“Please, if there is a doctor who knows anything about removing poisons from the air, please come down to Night Vale Community Radio station and-”

“Cecil.” His name, spoken softly, cut through his desperate plea. He whips around to see Carlos looking at him, his eyes going glassy.

“No. No no no no no.” Cecil chanted, moving away from his mic and crossing the room, falling in front of the couch in a daze. “No, Carlos. You can’t…you can’t!”

“Cecil…” Carlos breathed again, placing a hand to his cheek, his unfocused eyes looking through him. “Please…don’t be sad.”

“How can I not be?” Cecil cried. “I can’t live without you!”

“Yes you can.” Carlos insisted, his hand falling back onto his chest. “You can, and you will.”

Cecil swallowed thickly, pressing a kiss to Carlos’s forehead, his skin was so cold. “I love you, Carlos.”

“I love you too.” Carlos smiled, “Even when my heart stops beating, I shall love you.”

Cecil clutched the front of Carlos’s shirt, as if trying to keep him there. “Please don’t leave me!” He begged, wrapping his arms around the man, but it was already too late. Carlos let out a long breath, and he was gone, his heart stopping its beautiful rhythm. “No! Carlos, you can’t leave me!”

He stayed with his arms wrapped around Carlos until the Sherriff’s Secret Police arrived, carefully peeling Cecil away from the body. One of them led him to his chair, pressing the microphone into his hand, as if that would make anything better. Cecil stared at the microphone for a few seconds, struggling to hold in the tears that had yet to fall. He was so numb, and it hurt to think. He barely registered the Sherriff’s Secret Police leaving, carrying Carlos with them.

“Listeners…” Cecil whispered. “I…Carlos…something terrible has happened. I can’t…I _can’t._ Carlos, sweet Carlos, has died. I don’t know what to do…I couldn’t do anything, listeners. I can’t stop thinking about his perfect hair, and his perfect smile…”

The tears continued to be just out of reach, and he felt ready to bursting with them. Cecil stared down at his agenda for today’s show, but it didn’t seem to make any sense. Nothing made sense. He couldn’t continue on like this, not now. He needed a break, to go home and cry. But that wasn’t possible now.

“And now, the weather.” Cecil managed to choke out, quickly flipping his microphone off before letting out a dry sob. He quickly covered his face with his hands, his body trembling with grief; how was he supposed to continue on while Carlos, perfect Carlos, was gone?

Cecil stood quickly, making his way to the men’s bathroom, the music for the weather still playing cheerfully in the background.  Khoshekh gave a happy roar when he caught sight of the radio host, twirling around in his invisible cage. The kittens copied the floating cat, mewling out the most adorable roars that anyone had ever heard. Cecil shot Khoshekh and his kittens a weak smile before walking to the middle sink, turning on the water as hot as it would go.

As soon as he could see steam, Cecil stuck his hands into the water and splashed it on his face. The water was far too hot, turning his flesh redder with each splash of water. The burn was exactly what he needed though; he wouldn’t be able to continue with his show without the momentary distraction.

He splashed his face one more time before turning off the water, attempting to wipe away the wetness with his water soaked hands. Cecil let out a small sigh before looking up at the steam-fogged mirror. He reached up a hand to wipe away the fog, freezing when he saw what was written there.

It couldn’t be more than a few hours old, written when the previous sink occupant had fogged the mirrors while washing their hands with too-hot water. The scrawl was messy, yet elegant. The letters looped in an achingly familiar pattern, and it was all Cecil could do to remain upright as he read those four little words:

 

_I love you, Cecil_

The pain hit the man all at once, and he let out another sob before collapsing to the floor, tears running down his face. Cecil stayed curled up on the floor of the men’s bathroom long after the weather was finished, silence spreading across Night Vale like a thick blanket, leaving melancholy in its wake. Not a single person called into the station to complain, however. Cecil deserved this time to mourn.

Cecil remained in his spot long after the words faded back into the mirror. He stayed as the building was locked up for the night, the prerecorded shows that aired after Cecil’s show turned on by an intern before they left. He stayed there, looking at the mirror where Carlos’s words had been, as if waiting for the man himself to appear. But he never would, and Cecil would never again get to look upon the smiling face of Carlos.

“I love you too.” Cecil whispered, his eyes still locked on the mirror. “Even when my heart stops beating, I shall love you.”


End file.
